Memories and Absolution
by YouCantGetThereFromHere
Summary: AU. Possible plottwist for AWE. What if James Norrington joined Davy Jones' crew?


Disclaimer: PotC and related characters don't belong to me but to Disney. Charles and Edward Norrington ARE mine, though.

Memories and Absolution

The walls of the great cabin dripped with water and slime, algae and small sea creatures covered them like dark tapestries. The candles, lit by some unnatural force, gave no warmth to the room or the two figures in it.

"What do you remember now?" a deep voice said, smoke from his pipe leaving its owner's mouth and enveloping the other in its musky scent.

The slightly taller man, facing the cathedral-like stern window, his head held high, spoke softly but clearly.

"I don't understand, sir." The answer sounded apologetic, yet untroubled.

A chuckle in the shadows, and Davy Jones leaned closer. "Let me elaborate. What do you remember of your life?"

_A newly promoted young lieutenant stepped out into a busy London street, beaming in his spotless new uniform as a tall, handsome woman with a bright smile came towards him with her arms spread._

_Two men, one almost identical to the first in an only slightly older uniform, the other short and elderly, stood beside them. Their expressions were aloof and impatient, and while the woman embraced her son, neither of them spoke a word._

James' gaze was fixed on the window, but not seeing it. His posture was rigid, an officer ready for inspection, but his breathing was calm, his chest rising and falling slowly. The once-deep stomach wound had healed within days, barnacles now sealed the hole above his heart.

"Nothing, sir."

The thumping of the captain's whalebone leg rang through the cabin as he stepped around him to survey the newest member of his crew.

"So you know nothing of, say, one William Turner?" he questioned, cocking his head to one side, fascinated.

"No, sir." A sure, determined answer.

"Jack Sparrow?"

"No, sir."

A grim, unseen smile. "Elizabeth Swann?"

Finally, a pause.

"_Do you not find, Captain, that the abolition of piracy in the Caribbean robs us of one of our most treasured opportunities for romantic fiction?"_

_A young woman, Elizabeth, perfectly turned out, with her golden hair shimmering in the sunlight, sat on a bench at the fort, overlooking the sea. Her large brown eyes turned up to Captain Norrington, who stood beside her, tall and protective._

_She smiled up to meet his astonished gaze, his surprise at hearing such words uttered in the presence of an established officer of the Royal Navy written across his face._

"_Surely the security of those under the protection of His Majesty's Navy is by far more important than story books?" he replied, but slightly harsher than he had intended._

_He smiled apologetically and quickly added "I should never forgive myself were anything to happen to you during a pirate attack on Port Royal."_

_She gave a gay laugh and fluttered her fan coyly, and the movement drew his attention to her heaving bosom, tightly laced into a corset._

"_I'm certain you would always go to grand efforts to sufficiently protect me from pirates, James," she said and smiled up at him; a sweet, honest smile that melted away the officer and warmed his heart._

"No, sir. I do not know her." James swallowed and looked to his captain expectantly. Every day he was asked these questions; every time it made him feel weary.

His mind felt heavy to him, like the smoke of the pipe had settled around it, seeping into the creases and blurring every memory. By the end of these sessions the names that had to belong to people he had once known always meant less to him than they had before. He did not know what was being done to his mind, but he knew he had wanted to forget, and willingly, quietly submitted.

Davy Jones bared his small, white teeth in a grin. "What about your brother?" he said after a short pause, exhaling blue smoke again.

James closed his eyes and breathed slowly. "I don't know, sir."

The answer came less surely than those before, and Jones frowned. Stepped close to him, close enough for James to feel his breath on his face.

"But you do." Menace, lingering behind that deep voice, ready to emerge should it be found that he was lying. Punishment would surely follow.

A tentacle crept over James' chest, slithering further up and around his neck. It stayed there, suckers for now attached to waterlogged skin, a warning. A promise to be fulfilled one day, perhaps?

Jones watched him, cold blue eyes meeting questioning green ones. "As much as you have forgotten, you always remember him. Why?"

The former commodore knew he was being studied, closely searched for the slightest flinch that would betray any fear he had. He did not flinch or look away, but met the gaze. Uncertain, but not afraid. He had not wished to be afraid.

"I don't know, sir," he repeated truthfully. He knew he had a brother, but no more. Sometimes he could recall his name, but not at present.

With a clang of his leg every time he set it down onto the sodden wooden planks, Jones stepped back, further into the shadows. His eyes never left James as he sat down by his organ.

"Tell me", he began, starting a slow, quiet tune on the upper end of the scales with his right hand. "Were you close?"

The music slightly intensified. James shut his eyes and lowered his head to arrange his thoughts, but found he could not.

_Family were gathered around a plentiful spread on a dinner table, shining eyes of well-fed aunts and uncles turned to the more boyishly cute of the almost identical young men._

_"Charles, yes, he is quite brave," came the voice of the fat man at the head of the table; their father. "He could have lost his arm in action only months ago. A very painful injury, but he bore it with valour for King and Country."_

_Oohs and aahs came from the rest of the family, and James rolled his eyes. The injury had been acquired due to his twin's own foolishness, the arm rescued due to dumb luck alone._

_"It wasn't all that bad, father," Charles replied in a tone that failed to sound entirely modest, underlined by his slightly hidden, proud smirk._

_"Now now, no false modesty, son," Edward Norrington roared and patted him on the back. "You have all the makings of a hero!"_

_"And what about Jamie," one dear, widowed aunt asked. "Surely he is not entirely without a story to tell?"_

_Wide green eyes looked up hopefully even as embarrassed silence enveloped the table and a frown crossed Norrington's features._

_"James is nothing like his brother at all. Quite a coward, in fact. He just hasn't the heart for war, or the sea. "_

_Noses turned up and looks were cast disapprovingly at the younger of the twins as he wordlessly thrust his napkin to the table and left the room without excusing himself or looking back once._

"I'm not sure, sir. I don't think we were."

The music was swelling, heavy waves of sound that filled the room, and James realized they were under water. He questioned the workings of the organ for a moment only, before the thought was cast aside. There was no room for such thoughts in his mind anymore.

In fact, there was no room for much thought at all. Only obedience to his captain, torture in case of failure. No way out.

A living Hell, but not eternal. Perhaps, after his century of servitude was completed, James would find salvation.

Perhaps it was Heaven already. To obey orders, not to think, or feel anything but physical pain.

James knew the story of the captain's heart. He knew he had always understood. There was something he had begged forgiveness for every day, but he had forgotten what for. He begged, still.

He looked up to his captain. Jones had shut his eyes and both hands now played the entrancing tune as seaweed danced in its rhythm.

"Sir?" James asked, but his dismissal was clear. He could hardly hear himself in the midst of the strange muted overflow of sound and thus his session for today had been put an end to.

He nodded out of habit before turning to walk out the cabin door, onto the deck.

Immediately he was spotted by the dark shadows that were Davy Jones' crew - his own shipmates.

"Back to your duties, Mister Norrington!" came the harsh voice of the bo'sun and James clapped on to a rope that was shoved into his hands firmly.

"Yes, sir," he replied, uselessly. Nobody listened to formalities aboard the Flying Dutchman.

The toil that followed, harder than that aboard any other ship, came almost naturally to James and flowed past him like one of his strangest dreams. Only once did he look up when the giant shadow of an undersea reef rushed over the ship and he took a moment to marvel at its beauty, touched by the faint ghost of sunlight fathoms above.

A while ago, he had occasionally wondered what lay below the surface of the sea. Never had he dreamt that he would see it.

He did not dream about the land these days. He had lost all the fascination for the stars he had once had. He had asked to forget when he had been allowed to live, and as promised, he had forgotten.

Although different to what official statements claimed, James Norrington was forever lost to the sea.

_A little boy in his nightshirt stepped out onto the front doorstep of a large London townhouse to join his twin._

_Sweet smells of freshly baked biscuits wafted towards them and out onto the street. The boys' breath formed visible fog in the chilly winter air._

_Two pairs of large eyes, one green and one grey, turned hopefully to the night sky, stars twinkling down at them._

_"I do not think it is going to snow tonight," said the elder, Charles, to his little brother._

_James pouted, disappointed, and shook his head. "Nor I." He sniffed. "It is a shame. I wanted snow for our birthday."_

_Charles nodded. He squirmed, trying to rub his bare feet together to keep them warm and James did the same._

_Wordlessly, the stared at the sky, hoping that their combined willpower alone could coax the snow from the clouds._

_"James, Charles, come inside!" their mother called from behind them. "You will catch your death and give your father a fright!"_

_Guilty, the two boys turned to her, dressed for Christmas festivities in a pink silk dress. They found her beautiful._

_"Yes, mother," they replied in unison, and she smiled down at them fondly as they stepped back inside, glad to have their feet back on warm carpet._

_"You are good boys. Now, wash your hands and get dressed, we wouldn't want to keep father waiting. Cook has made biscuits for us!"_

_The twins squealed in delight and rushed to get dressed, ever lovingly watched by their mother._

_She shut the door slowly as the first snowflakes began to fall._


End file.
